


dear friend (will wonders never cease?)

by leifstroganoff



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, She Loves Me AU, bc i while i have the story planned i dont have it all written, uuhhh idk this is so self indulgent i'll add tags as theyre relevant probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leifstroganoff/pseuds/leifstroganoff
Summary: Wouldn't it be nice to get to know someone with no expectations? No names, no pictures, no preconceived notions. lonelyhearts.com prides itself on making matches; whether romantic or platonic, you'll be matched with someone similar enough to be compatible, but different enough to spice up your life.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Leif Donnelly
Comments: 33
Kudos: 37





	1. dear friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written - it's heavily based on she loves me, so uhh spoilers for that i guess? it's gonna be several chapters but i'm not sure exactly how many yet (i have it all planned out, but idk exactly how im gonna cut it up yet)  
> i'm not hella confident in my characterization of zoey yet but i really wanted to write this au and literally nobody can stop me so here i am, i hope at least one other person enjoys it!  
> i have decided that this is pre-canon and completely non-canon compliant simply because i dont wanna deal with the timeline and incorporating the powers and its my self-indulgent fic so shrug emoji (unfortunately this probably means no mo but again its my fic so i can also just introduce a bs reason that she befriends mo anyways its my world and i can do what i want with it)

Zoey would be the first to admit that joining a ‘lonely hearts club’ is so not her speed. She didn’t even know they still exist, she thought it was just the kind of thing they threw into old-timey stuff to make it sound charming, but she saw an ad for an “updated” one on Instagram and it just… well, ‘spoke to her’ isn’t the right phrase (or at least not one she would ever use herself, no matter how accurate it might be); she would say she seemed drawn to it. She scrolled past it several times, actually, but each time she saw it, she thought more about it. Maybe it would be nice to talk to someone without any expectations - no names, no pictures, just getting to know each other without any preconceived notions. That does sound nice, doesn’t it?

And maybe she’s a little lonelier than she’d like to admit. It’s not even that she wants _love_ out of it - Max wasn’t wrong when he said her past relationships were “unnecessarily complicated, exhausting for everybody, the opposite of good”, but getting to know someone new, whether that results in some kind of fairy tale true love or not, doesn’t seem _unappealing_. She loves Max more than she’d probably ever admit out loud, but somewhere deep down she knows it’s not healthy or sustainable for him to be her _only_ real friend in a world full of other-wise acquaintances. So, when she sees the ad for what she swears is the fifth time on her lunch break, she _maybe_ considers clicking on it. (And of course, that means she totally clicks on it.)

The gist of it is that she’s to set up a “fake” email and fill out a questionnaire. Based on that, they’ll match her with someone who’s ‘ _similar enough to be compatible, but different enough to spice up your life’_ (and that tagline alone makes her second guess filling it out in the first place) and that person will have filled out the same questionnaire and made their own “fake” email. Simple enough, right? 

So, she figures, _why the hell not?_ The best case scenario is that she gets a new friend, or maybe something even more than that, and the worst case is that she disappoints a stranger online (and if disappointing a stranger online was a true fear of hers, she would’ve stopped posting on discussion forums _years_ ago). She fills out the questionnaire and makes her new email - then she goes back to work and doesn’t think about it again until she sits down on her couch with a microwave dinner to see that she’s been _matched_ with someone in the San Francisco area, along with a cute little ‘preview’ of his questionnaire answers with an accompanying note from the company; ‘ _It’s okay to be picky! If these answers don’t seem like your type, contact us at 1(800)555-5555 and we’ll re-assess your questionnaire for free!’_ (which really doesn’t make sense, she thinks, since the whole service is free, anyways, but she’s not gonna complain before she at least looks at the poor dude’s answers).

 _Email: goldencrownedsparrow@lonelyhearts.com_  
_Job: programmer_ _  
__Likes: birds, space, games, cats, vanilla scented things, drawing, new book smell, programming (obviously, haha), nature trails, cold things on hot days and hot things on cold days, chess, coffee mug collections  
__Dislikes: drizzling rain, unfamiliar situations, searching for lost items, reckless drivers, arrogance and stupidity when they occur at the same time, large bodies of water_

* * *

Leif didn’t think he would ever willingly sign up for a lonely hearts club. It’s not like he’s _lonely_ ( ~~he is~~ ) or like he craves affection and real human connection or anything ( ~~he does~~ ). He’s perfectly happy with Tobin, a world full of acquaintances, and the close friends that come fast and go just as soon as they realize he’s more than just a nerd with a control complex (and he tries not to let that bother him and, for the most part succeeds; at least he knows he’ll always have Tobin). 

But when he comes home from birdwatching on the way home from work (sometimes he’ll stop his bike at a park and just sit until the sun goes down, observing nature calmly, letting himself feel at peace with his binoculars, a latte from the nearby coffee shop, and his phone to look up anything really cool he sees) to Tobin’s taunts about how he ‘ _really_ _needs real, actual people to hang out with outside of work’,_ he can’t help but to take it to heart a little bit. 

“Seriously, I love you, dude, you’re my best friend, but I want you to name one friend that’s not me.” Leif starts to open his mouth to rebut, but Tobin raises his finger before he can get so much as a sound out. “You can’t say any of our coworkers. They are not your _friends_.” 

“I - Well…” _Well_ , this is just sad. “I don’t - I have friends, Tobin.”

“ _Leif._ ”

“I have friends!”

“Alright, bro, since you’ve still not named any actual names of people you consistently hang out with, I’m gonna give you the spiel and hope you don’t spend the rest of your life just vibing with me, because _as much as I love you,_ that’s just sad, broletariat.” 

“I’m not -” Leif is still hellbent on being indignant before his brain catches up to what Tobin actually said, eyes immediately drawing in suspicion. “Hang on, what spiel?” 

“My buddy Jared, you know, a real human being that I spend time with,” Leif resists the urge to roll his eyes, though he thinks maybe he shouldn’t quite press down that urge if Tobin’s gonna be this obnoxious tonight. “He was telling me about this app that’s like, uh - how’d he put it? A consistent blind date? You get to know each other completely anonymously.”

“I mean, sure, that _would_ sound cool if I had any interest in dating right now. Which I don’t.”

“Well, that’s the cool thing - it doesn’t have to be an explicit romance-search. Some people just wanna be friends, some people wanna find love, some think they want friendship and _end up_ finding love, or vice versa. Anything can happen, but more importantly, you’ll _talk to someone new_ , and I might get the apartment to myself for reasons _other than_ you sitting in a park alone.” 

“Alright, _rude_. I’m not **alone** , there are… old dudes and kids playing and - uh, yeah, I’m hearing myself, that’s really sad. Where do I sign up?”

So, Tobin shows him the questionnaire and he sets up an email and he figures _what could it hurt anyways?_ If it would get Tobin off his back about being sad and alone, plus the added benefit of maybe actually preventing him from _being_ sad and alone, he figures it’s worth a shot. It’s a full two days before he gets a match which really doesn’t do _anything_ for his self-esteem after reading every review on their website most of which say something along the lines of ‘I was matched within hours, I swear they found my soulmate and did it _quick_!’. He gets the notification when he’s getting ready for bed, so he waits until he’s laid down and ready to relax to check out the information they do give on the other person (and if he thinks that maybe if it’s a dud, it’ll be easier to act like he’s not disappointed if he’s by himself in bed, he doesn’t acknowledge that thought).

 _Email:_ _orderedphoenix@lonelyhearts.com_  
_Job: programmer_  
_Likes: late nights, the stars (and star wars!), family, a good (fair!!) debate, cinnamon, tequila, listening to the ocean, card games  
Dislikes: talking to strangers (whoops), secondhand smoke, gatekeepers, feeling lost, the mercator projection map, cold coffee_

Well _, alright_. That doesn’t seem too bad. It actually looks like they have a lot in common (though, he forcefully reminds himself, you can’t really tell if you’re gonna like a person based on stupid questionnaire answers). The only step now is to not chicken out and _email the girl_. Alright.

 _Dear friend,_ (Does that sound dumb? Is it even appropriate to say _friends_ , yet? But “hey, you” seems so much dumber.)

_~~Hey~~ \- ~~What’s up?~~ \- ~~Howdy!~~ I’m honestly surprised I’m sending this email. Sorry if that’s too forward, you do seem really cool! I just kinda got bullied into this by a friend and I’m not super confident that this is the best way for me to make friends. Well, I’m not super confident at all actually (wow, that’s probably not the best thing to hear from the dude you matched with on a site like this), I tend to put up a front that I am in real life, but hey, maybe I should start with total honesty here. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking this. Uh, anyways, is that a Harry Potter reference in your user? Kind of awkward if it isn’t now, but if it is, I love Harry Potter! I’m also a programmer, too, but I guess you already know that since we matched and you saw the same stuff I saw for you. Maybe we can talk sometime about the pros and cons of the mercator projection, cause boy, I have some opinions on that. Uh, cool, I’m gonna stop typing now before I make more of an idiot of myself than I have already. Thanks for… also being lonely? God, I’m gonna stop talking. _

_~~Yours~~ \- ~~Regards~~ \- ~~Respectfully????~~ \- Sincerely, goldencrownedsparrow _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments clear my skin and water my crops


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is still kinda just setting stuff up hopefully i can start to get into actual plot stuff starting next chapter and really start developing stuff  
> this is still the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written and i've rewatched she loves me three times in the past two days to remember the plot & pacing so thats where my brain is right now lmao

Zoey doesn’t know why she puts off responding to the email until lunch the next day - there’s no reason she can’t just type up a quick “hey, nice to meet you” email before bed, but there’s something that scares her about actually returning the initiation of conversation. Maybe it’s that returning the stranger’s conversations is as good as admitting that she _is_ lonely and maybe she’s a little ashamed that it seems this is the only way she can confidently meet someone. Regardless of her reasoning, she doesn’t find the words to reply until she’s eating lunch at her desk, disregarding her intentions to work through her break.

 _Dear friend_ , ( _Are_ they friends? Well, it’s what he said, it shouldn’t freak him out, right?)

 ~~ _Howdy!_ _Hello!_~~ _Hey, it’s good to meet (well, text??) you! Honestly, it’s really nice to know you’re not like some super confident macho dude, I appreciate the honesty, because I am so far from being confident about this. I’ve never done something like this, but -_

“Hey, Zoey,” Leif takes off his glasses as he turns around, catching Zoey’s attention. “Did you ever figure out why notifications were getting swapped on the watch?” 

“Uh, no, not yet,” She quickly minimizes her email tab as he walks slightly closer towards her. “I’ve narrowed it down to one section of code, though, if you wanna take a look at it?” 

“Sure.” A small, polite small rests on his face as he comes around to the other side of her desk, leaning down as she brings up the section and scanning his eyes over the code. “Actually, can you just send me the section? I think I’m gonna make a coffee run, then I can really take a look at it.” 

“Of course, thanks, Leif.” 

“Yeah,” He pats her shoulder with another polite small (if it looks like a forced smile, that’s none of her business and she’s just not going to acknowledge it). So, she sends the section and hesitantly opens her email back up.

_I’ve never done something like this, but I think it’s kinda nice that we can’t really judge each other, yet. (Not that I’m planning on judging you!! You also seem cool!) I get what you mean about putting up a front, I think. It’s so much easier to act like you know what you’re doing than it is to actually know what you’re doing._

_Yeah, I guess there’s not really a lot to say to introduce myself with the whole questionnaire stuff, you already know I’m a programmer and an unashamed nerd - though, so are you, it looks like, if you pegged my Harry Potter reference that fast! See, we’ve already got that in common. Next you’re gonna tell me you like Star Wars and listen to informational podcasts for fun, too. What house are you? I’m Ravenclaw myself, but I try not to judge too much about other houses (emphasis on try there), the system is so complex now, especially with fan lore!_ _Ha, thank_ _you_ _for being lonely, too! Actually, now that I’m really writing to you, I feel a lot better about this. This is gonna be nice, I think, Sparrow. (Can I call you Sparrow?? Is_ _that_ _too forward?)_

 ~~_Thanks_ ~~ _-_ ~~_Yours_ ~~ _\- Sincerely,_ _orderedphoenix_

* * *

“Hey, dude, what’s with the idiotic smile?” 

Leif’s hand moves to click out of his email as fast as he can as Tobin approaches his desk from the side.

“What idiotic smile? I’m frowning. Look at me frown.” 

“You are probably the worst liar in the world, broseph.” 

“I wasn’t smiling. Or, at least, _not idiotically,_ jerk.” 

" _Spill._ I’m hungry for gossip, Susan from HR hasn’t done anything new in weeks, I’m dying out here, man.”

“It’s nothing - It’s just that app, the blind date thing, she wrote back.” 

“ _Oh_ , okay, I see you.” Leif rolls his eyes, hitting Tobin on the arm. “Is she cool? Do you think she’s hot? Has she pegged you for a total dweeb, yet?” 

“Alright, _one_ , it doesn’t matter if she’s hot and you shouldn’t ask that _anyways_ , but I’m not… looking for anything. And yeah, she… she seems really cool.” His cheeks are colored by a slight blush now, before he narrows his eyes at Tobin. “Hang on, I’m _not_ a dweeb.” 

“As your best friend in the entire world, you’re a dweeb. Don’t fight it. Anyways, that still doesn’t answer what about _that_ made you smile like an idiot.”

“She just… seems cool and we’ve got a lot in common. That’s all.” 

“ _Right_.” He draws it out, Tobin’s clear way of saying ‘I don’t believe you at all, but I’m not gonna push it right now’. Even if he’d wanted to push it, he doesn’t have time to, because Joan’s stepped out of her office and raised her voice.

“Alright, everyone. Listen up and listen up closely! This app needs to be done by Christmas, I’m not kidding. I know it’s ‘ _only August_ ’ and we’ve ‘ _just started development on the app and we don’t even know if it’ll work, yet’”,_ Joan’s voice is clearly mocking the coders, supported by the mocking expression on her face as she speaks. “But if your work doesn’t pick up, I’m gonna start _picking_ people to fire, okay?” That’s definitely not legal, but nobody really wants to stand up to Joan here. “Is that clear to all of you? Because I still don’t see fingers moving to code, stop looking at me and _start typing_. Leif, Tobin, Zoey, that means you guys, too, you’re not exempt just because you’re all staring at me with shocked and/or doe eyes.” 

“God, she’s seemed so much more hellbent on riding us recently.” Tobin says as he sits down as soon as she’s stepped back into her office. “I mean, she’s always been hell-ish, but now she’s like _actively trying to kill us_. Maybe her marriage is failing, that’s what makes bosses go all ‘war-path’ in the movies, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Leif shrugs, looking back at his laptop. “I don’t really care. I think I’m just gonna, uh, try not to get fired for now,” He opens up the code he’d been looking at earlier, quickly starting to scan it for what was causing the error, pushing the email and his new friend to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me feel like my writing is worth something (hm maybe thats too deep smh if u leave me a comment i'll just love you a lot kdgdkfj)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it kinda feels like this is moving fast but i promise im just trying to follow the pacing of she loves me as close as possible w/o just straight up writing the show and i promise theres so much more to come from this, it might feel fast but if you've seen she loves me you know the vibes

More and more tension came to fill Leif’s shoulders as August moved into September and September moved to October, watching autumn leaves begin to color the parks that he passes on his bike ride to work. 

Nothing goes wrong, specifically, but the stress of Joan riding their asses, on top of his _normal_ anxieties, is getting to be a little too much. And maybe he’s imagining it, but it seems her frustrations are focused on _him_ ; sure, she yells at everyone, but she’s not dropped any of Tobin’s fidget toys in the trash or blamed Zoey for a coffee spill in the meditation room that he _hadn’t even been in._ And speaking of Zoey, that’s a tension he’s not even completely sure of the origin of. They had been the two main contenders for a promotion (which, of course, he _wanted_ , but he knows he never said that to _her_ ) and it seemed as if after she got it, they weren’t even acquaintances anymore, barely able to work together to even open a program, let alone write a line of code.

“Leif, why isn’t the image configuration done, yet?” Joan greets him with an acidic smile as he walks up to his desk, setting his helmet down and opening his laptop immediately.

“Uh, that’s not actually my section of -”

“I don’t care, it needs to be done.” 

_Okay_.

At least he has _Dear Friend,_ whose communication has grown to be a constant positive, a shining light through the storm clouds suffocating him. Not only do they get along, but they have so much more in common than he had ever imagined they could when he had sent that first email nearly two months ago now. Of course, they had differences (she had joked about a month in that she should’ve ended their correspondence when he’d said ‘ _I’m a Slytherin’_ and ‘ _I prefer Star Trek over Star Wars if I’m being honest’_ in the same email), but overall, it was nice to have someone to talk to not only about art and nerd stuff that nobody but Tobin wanted to listen to him ramble on about, but about the things he felt bad complaining about. When he got frustrated or overwhelmed at work, or if he had a bad phone call with his father, he could turn to sending an email and know that she’d at least distract him with talk of Harry Potter and debating whether or not the prequels are actually that bad.

_Dear friend_ , 

_I know it’s been a minute since I’ve written back, I promise I’m not ignoring you. I’m actually doing quite the opposite, emailing with you is one of the only things I actually look forward to right now. Truthfully, I’m just not doing too great - I’m busy, my boss is criticizing literally everything I do, and my kind-of other boss just hates me as a person; my poor, frayed nerves just can’t take it. My head is in, like, 20 different places and every stupid petty thing is itching its way under my skin. I can’t even play my favorite games without feeling_ _**guilty** _ _because I guess I’m telling myself I could be working on stuff for work or getting rest so maybe I’ll stop feeling so shitty or that my boss’ll lay off me if it’s absolutely undeniable that I’m doing good work. I don’t know, sorry to vent-dump on you like this. Maybe it’s something in the stars or the weather, it’s almost November, so it_ _**is**_ _starting to get chillier and rainier and the birds are starting to migrate (kind-of wish I could follow them, haha). Is it just me? Have you been seeing this kind of tension in your life? It’s like it’s choking the air of San Francisco for me. By the way, did you finish Devil in the White City, yet? I’m dying to talk about it with someone._ _  
__  
Sincerely, goldencrownedsparrow_ _  
_

As he hits send on the email, he turns his head to see Zoey coming in and setting her stuff down in a hurry, sitting down and quickly setting up to start working, her body language frantic.

“Ah, I see you managed to be on time today.” Hey, if she was gonna criticize his work and bicker anytime he so much as needed advice on a piece of code, he could dish it right back. 

“I’m really sorry to disappoint you.” 

“No, I’m _thrilled_ , absolutely thrilled, just surprised, that’s all. First time this week, isn’t it?” He smiles at her, big and almost taunting, undoubtedly forced. She ignores him, only briefly rolling her eyes, in favor of standing up and walking towards the coffee station. 

* * *

Zoey’s week has been, for lack of a better word, bad. She’s stressed, she’s overwhelmed, she had to cancel movie night, and she’s not gotten an email from her _Dear friend,_ Sparrow (who she’s come around to care quite a bit about in their few months of correspondence, no matter what she’d say if you asked her), in about a week. Usually, she wouldn’t stress too much about a week of no communication, but with someone like Max or other friends, she could check their twitter or instagram or ask a friend how they’re doing; for all she knows, this week of no contact is because Sparrow’s been in a car accident or been abducted from an alley or drowned in an impromptu ocean swim (though, she recalls, he strongly dislikes open bodies of water, so maybe she could rule that particular tragic death out). On second thought, maybe she’s just listened to one too many true crime podcasts. Or perhaps, the outcome she hopes for the least, is just that he’s gotten tired of talking to her and doesn’t know how to tell her. As much as thoughts of possible tragic ends to their communication haunt her, she thinks it might hurt more if it really is just because he no longer likes her after weeks of bonding that had seemed to be going so well.

So, when she hurries into work, barely on time, and is immediately met with Leif’s taunts, she barely keeps her cool. She fires a quip back and blazes past him, deciding that she really shouldn’t talk to anyone until she’s shoved some caffeine into her poor, overworked body. 

Her shoulders sag in relief when she sits down with far-too-sweet coffee and opens her email to see a one in parentheses indicating that her inbox is no longer empty. _So, he’s not dead, thank God._ She reads the email, her heart filling with sympathy, clicking almost immediately to start composing a response. 

_Dear friend,_

_Oh, god, don’t apologize. Right now? I get it, one hundred percent. You’re definitely not alone in the tension and discord - if you think your boss is riding your ass, you should really see my boss - sometimes I think she forgets we’re actual human people and that we exist outside of this specific office space. I’m not done with the book, yet, but I’m getting there! You were right, though, it is an absolutely fascinating read. Like, holy shit, the way he threads two seemingly unrelated true stories together to show how good stuff can look so blindingly beautiful while absolutely horrid shit is going on underneath? I can’t thank you enough for recommending it._

_On another note, I was eagerly awaiting your response. Not just because I enjoy talking to you (which I do! that made it sound like I don't, writing to you is so enjoyable, you've become one of my favorite parts of the day), and because I was just a little bit worried about you dropping off the face of the Earth, but in our last exchange, we’d talked of meeting in person. I understand if you’re too busy or stressed right now (we’re rowing along in the same boat there), but I’m still free for Tuesday if you are. Maybe that could be a fun thing to make both of us feel better right now. Let me know._

_Sincerely, orderedphoenix_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make my lifeforce stronger (also hypothetically if you wanted to yell at me or perhaps see me make dumb text posts during my writing process about how i have to google simple words to make sure i spell them right im on tumblr @ wirypsychiatrist)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ended up kind of long but i didnt wanna cut anything from it so,,,, vibes

And so, the date is set. Tuesday they’ll meet in person. And on Tuesday, Leif is not freaking out, no, sir. He is doing absolutely just fine. So fine, in fact, that Tobin pulls him into the conference room after he knocks over the coffee he’s trying to stir at the coffee bar (after cleaning it up, of course, he’s not looking to get yelled at _again_ ).

“Okay, dude, you’re fidgety and you’re spilling things and you changed shirts five times this morning before you left. You maybe wanna tell me what’s up?”

Well, the answer to that is a confusing mix of ‘ _yes, yes, I wanna scream what’s up from every rooftop right now’_ and ‘ _absolutely not I wanna crawl into an isolation pod and never come out’_ , so he opts for a simple shrug and a nervous look around them, even though the door is closed and he’s sure no one in the office is _that_ good at lip reading.

“I’m meeting her tonight.” It’s a half-whisper, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. “We’re… meeting up for a picnic, it’s supposed to be really nice outside today.”

“ _Dude._ Why didn’t you tell me? Holy shit, good luck.” Leif’s mouth opens and closes a couple times, clearly trying to say something, but unable to just come out and say it. “Based on everything about your face, this doesn’t seem like you’re excited as you should be.”

“No, I am, uh, I really am, holy shit, this is big. I just, uh,” Hand comes to rest in front of his mouth in a fist, deep breath racking his lungs as the same hand moves up to wipe sweat from his temple. “I’m gonna screw it up. Like, definitely, no chance to be had, I’m gonna screw it up, dude.”

“What?” Tobin’s eyes squint in disbelief, hand thrusting out to ‘thwack’ his friend’s chest. “Nah, she’s gonna love you. How could she not? You said things were going well.” 

“ _Yeah_ , in emails. It’s so much different face to face, Tobes. When I’m writing, the words just _come_ , I can read and re-read them and make sure that I’m saying what I _wanna_ be saying, y’know? And, oh, the things I wrote in those emails. It’s _embarrassing_ and now I have to look this girl, probably the smartest girl in town, in the eyes knowing that I’ve been the most honest I’ve ever been with anyone in my life with her?”

“Right, okay, I see you, I hear you, but…” Tobin squares Leif’s shoulders, letting his hands rest on them as he speaks. “She wrote emails, too. From what you told me, pretty intimate emotional ones. ‘ _You’re the only one who gets me, Sparrow’_ and ‘ _When I face fear and aggravation, I know you’ll be there to talk to’_.” His voice has gone falsetto until Leif smacks his chest, glaring at him for the mocking, instantly regretting any discussion he had had of the actual content of the emails with Tobin. “Whatever, if you’re embarrassed, then she is, too.”

“ _Right_. Cool,” He steps away from Tobin’s hands, letting them fall off his shoulders as he rolls out one of the chairs and sits down, letting his shoulders sag forward, breaking his perfect posture. “I just… What if she _doesn’t_ like me, Tobes? I know she likes _Dear friend_ , she likes ‘Sparrow’, the guy who sends the emails, but what if I can’t - what if - I mean I didn’t _lie_ , obviously, but it’s easier to be myself behind a screen. What’s she gonna think when I actually can’t stop myself from talking about the differences in flight gait between east and west coast birds? Huh? Who wants to listen to _that_? Or - Or,” He puts emphasis on the second ‘or’, finger pointing towards Tobin as if to punctuate the point. “I’ll say absolutely nothing, unable to come up with even the word for ‘hello’, my brain is such a mess over this. You’ve seen me today and I’ve only been at work for an hour, I can barely keep a cup of coffee sitting upright, let alone a glass of wine on a picnic blanket. Or I’m gonna drop the food and the point is - I’m _going to_ embarrass myself, I know it, I just don’t know how and I don’t - I don’t think she’ll still like me after seeing me like that.” 

“Alright, you wanna know what _I_ think?” Tobin’s eyebrows raise, waiting for a genuine response from Leif. After a second’s silence, Leif shrugs and gestures for him to keep talking, expectant worry clouding his eyes. “I think this is a lot of worrying for someone who swears he doesn’t wanna date this chick.”

“I -” His voice is quiet now, almost ashamed. “I didn’t think I would care this much.”

“Okay, dude,” Sympathy fills Tobin’s voice, features softening now. “What time’s the picnic?”

“Seven.”

“Alright, so you’ve got about eight hours -”

“Eight hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-four seconds.”

“Okay, uh, we’re not gonna unpack _that_. You’ve got _about eight hours_ to chill out and collect yourself. Believe me when I say this, you’re gonna be fine. Really. The worst thing that can happen is that she hates you.”

“Do you really think you’re helping right now?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Tobin’s shit-eating grin directly contradicts him. “Dude, seriously. Even if you _do_ make a fool out of yourself, you… kind of _are a fool_. All these things you listed, the rambling, that’s you, dude, and if she doesn’t see that as endearing, then she just straight up doesn’t deserve you.”

“If I could give you an award for ‘worst pep talk ever’, I would. But… thanks, anyways.”

* * *

Zoey rushes in to her desk, only fairly certain that she isn’t horrendously late, quickly shedding her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair, eyes scanning quickly for Leif, seeing if he was ready to taunt her tardiness, but only seeing Max sitting at the desk across from her, raising his eyebrows, worried look occupying his features.

“Am I very late?”

“Only an hour. You good?” 

“Did Leif say anything?” Her eyes are glued on her underling where she can see him chatting with Tobin on the other side of the glass wall of the conference room ( _not_ doing work, she notes). 

“Uh, no, he’s got bigger problems right now, I think. Something personal, it looks like. _Plus_ Joan’s guns are a-blazin'.”

“Again?”

“And you know, I don’t really like the guy, but he _has_ been getting the worst of it.” 

“Yikes.” She sits down, finally opening up her laptop and trying not to feel too much sympathy, forcefully reminding herself of the many times since receiving the promotion that he and Tobin have been willfully insubordinate and rude. “Did I miss anything important in the Joan-yelling?”

“No, not really. There’s a glitch in the UI config, but we’re working on fixing it, you can just hop right in on the working.” His eyes linger suspiciously for a second, adding an addendum to his sentence. “ _After_ you let me know why you’re wearing one of your ‘I have a date’ outfits, because if you don’t, I’m gonna assume it’s because _you have a date._ ”

Zoey doesn’t respond, staring at her laptop keyboard and letting her cheeks color to match her hair. 

“ _You have a date_?” Max’s eyebrows raise into his hairline, an incredulous look on his face. “Who? What? When? Where? _Who?_ ”

“Uh, you wouldn’t… know him. It’s tonight, we’re going on a picnic.”

“That’s _cute_.” It’s a small smile on his face now, happy to tease his best friend. “What’s he look like? Is he tall?”

“So-so.”

“So-so? So-so could be six feet, five feet… _four feet_?” His face shifts to a grave seriousness at the end.

“Well, I never measured.”

“Hair color? Eye color?”

“It’s, uh, sandy hair. Not really light, not really dark.”

“And the eyes?” Max’s face has twisted in suspicion now, Zoey’s non-answers caught in his gaze.

“Blue-ish. Green-ish.”

“Brown-ish?”

“A little.” 

“Is he _handsome_?”

“Y’know, that’s a funny question, Max, because at times he is and at times he’s not.”

“Zo, you want some really good advice with this dude?” She nods her head nervously. “Don’t lose him in a crowd.” 

He turns back to his laptop, starting to type again until his head turns back to see Zoey with her head on her desk and he hears a groan from her direction. 

“Why am I such a bad liar?” Her head raises, hair falling back down to frame her face as she pouts in Max’s direction. “I’ve never met him. Or seen him. I can’t describe him to you because _I don’t know what he looks like_.” 

“You’re this dressed up and worked up for a blind date?”

“It’s not a blind date, I know him.” She’s very quick to the defense, before realizing that this particular defense means she now has to explain to him how the hell she knows him.

“ _How_?”

“Um… _emails_. A lot of emails. It was this dumb lonely hearts club ad. We’ve been emailing each other anonymously.”

“ _Lonely hearts club_? Zoey, this guy could be a serial killer. Or an old dude. Or an _old serial killer._ ” 

“He’s not.” She looks offended, but thoughtful (it’s certainly a thought she’s already had anyways). “Or, I guess, he _could be_ , yeah. So, we’re meeting in a very public place, I’ll share my location with you, so, if something happens you can call the cops and make sure I don’t die, pretty please?” He chuckles at that, at least. “But… seriously, I don’t think he is. I don’t know his name or what he looks like, but we’ve talked about the kind of stuff I’ve never talked about with _anyone_. He’s open and honest and nice and smart. I know about his childhood and his insecurities and his thoughts on the commercialization of superhero movies. I just… don’t know his name or what he looks like. That’s all. I know what his insides look like.”

“I’m gonna leave this alone and just say I’m happy for you and I hope it goes well, but I _need_ you to know that you can’t just say you know what someone’s insides look like.” 

Zoey’s about to respond when she notices Leif and Tobin leaving the conference room and Joan leaving her office at the same time, both of which fill her with an unfathomable dread in her stomach. 

“I’m gonna freshen up, I got all sweaty rushing here, can you make literally _any_ excuse that’s not that one if someone asks where I am?” 

Max nods, heading back to work as Joan looks around the room, presumably looking for the redhead that just left. When she can’t find her, her eyes land on Leif and approach him instead.

“Leif, make sure everyone knows they have to stay late tonight, this UI glitch is gonna be fixed by the morning.” 

“Oh, uh,” She’s already turning around to leave, her face switching to a very clear annoyance when he catches her attention. “I can’t. Stay late tonight. You know me, I would, _literally_ any other night. I will - I can stay tomorrow, even, I just -” He pauses, embarrassed to even be asking not to stay. “I have a date.” 

“That won’t be necessary. I can assure you that we’ll be absolutely fine without you. Maybe even better, actually, now that I think about it. Thank you, that’s all.” She turns in a huff, leaving a wide-eyed and scared Leif who’s been walked over for two straight months now. Frustration bubbles it’s way through his chest and out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop it.

“That’s not all, Joan.” 

“It’s not?”

The entire office’s eyes are now on the two of them, Tobin is standing behind Joan making a ‘cut-it-out’ gesture, but Leif can’t seem to make himself stop talking.

“No, it’s not. For two months now, I’ve been the butt of your anger, more than anyone else. Did something change? Is it me? Is it my work? Because if my work is bad now, it’s been bad for seven years, and I - I would really have appreciated it if someone had said something then.” For the first time in a while, his words are completely confident, impeccably perfect posture emphasizing his point. 

“Do you really think it’s okay to raise your voice at your boss in the middle of the office?” Joan’s eyes are sharp now, he feels like he’s under the highest scrutiny he could possibly be as her eyes analyze everything about him, ready to attack. “You-” She’s interrupted by Tobin dropping the tablet in his hands on the ground and making an ‘oopsie’ gesture as he picks it up. “Can we not break company property? _Please_?” 

Tobin’s distraction seems to have worked, though, as Joan drops the subject with an annoyed wave of her hand and goes back into her office.

“You did that on purpose.” 

“ _Uh, yeah,_ ” Tobin’s face is the human equivalent of ‘duh’. “I had to stop you two from tearing out each other’s throats before you did something dumb like quit.”

“I wasn’t gonna quit.” 

“Okay, before _she_ did something dumb, like fire you.”

“She might’ve been willing to fire me, actually, yeah.” He leans back against his desk, eyes meeting the floor. “Thanks, I guess.” 

He turns around, ready to get back to work before he remembers the one person who didn’t witness the _charade_ that just happened and therefore doesn’t know that they’re all expected to stay late. He doesn’t know where she was a second ago, but when he looks at her desk, she’s now sitting down, so he approaches, not bothering to hide how exhausted he already is.

“Zoey, Joan wants everyone to stay late tonight.” He tries not to roll his eyes when her own eyes widen, disappointment clearly etched across her face.

“Why?”

“She wants the dumb UI glitch fixed by morning, everyone has to stay, she might actually kill one of us if it’s not.”

“I can’t stay. Leif, I can’t stay,” She stands up quickly, rounding around her desk to face him. What, does she want his pity? 

“Why?”

“I have a date.” She looks crestfallen and he can’t help but to give her that pity now, especially considering his own circumstance. “Oh, you know I have a date.” And just like that, pity retracted.

“How in the world am I supposed to know _you_ have a date, Zoey?” 

“Oh, come on, what do you think I’m dressed up for? The bus ride home?” 

“Look, I’m just Joan’s messenger here, sorry.” 

“God, why did she have to pick today of all days to do this…” She’s leaning on her desk now, holding herself up on her hands. “Unless you picked it. You picked it and you asked because you knew I had a date! God, that’s so sad - that is _so sad_ that you hate me that much that you can’t even let me have this one thing.” 

“Jesus Christ, I don’t hate you, stop being so dramatic.”

“Oh, _I’m_ being dramatic?” 

“Yeah, you’re being dramatic, and I think you should have bigger fish to fry right now than whether or not I hate you, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the whole office’s dynamic is fucked up right now and Joan is on the warpath.”

“That is _not_ my fault.” 

“There’s a glitch in the UI configuration.”

“ _That’s_ not my fault!” She’s indignant, before quick realization dawns over her. “Is it?”

“You wrote that section of code!”

“With _your_ help!” 

His jaw is tight and he’s trying not to think about how many of their coworkers are staring at their spat (for the second time today; if he didn’t know himself better, he’d think maybe he needs to get a handle on his emotions). “Can we not fight about this right now?”

“Oh, of course, we can call this off right now, since you’re the one who keeps starting these fights anyways.”

Well, so much for putting the brakes on this fight.

“ _Oh_ , I’m the one who starts fights? I’m the one?” 

“Yeah, you are. You’ve hated me ever since Joan picked me over you for the promotion.”

“I do not hate you.”

“Oh, admit it, you think you deserved the promotion, because you’re a smart dude, emphasis on the _dude_ part of that, by the way, and you think you’re better than me and you resent me for it.” 

“I _do not_ resent you.” He locks his jaw, turning away from the fight and starting back to his desk. _Be the bigger person. Be the bigger person. Be the bigger person._ “ _But if I did_ ,” Jesus Christ, Leif. “Don’t you think I’d be pretty justified? How many times can you go around making very public, _very humiliating_ comments about someone before they start to resent you, huh?”

“Only because you and Tobin are constantly insulting my leadership and being painfully insubordinate, do you think I like that?”

“Do you think I like you criticizing my shirts, my socks, my _ties_?” 

“They’re getting better.” She deadpans, turning away and plopping back down into her seat as Leif turns around in a huff, striding back over to his desk, beginning to type away at his laptop with agitated fingers.

“How can he be the most infuriating, most insufferable, most disrespectful person _ever_?” She vents to Max, who responds with a shrug and a glance in Leif’s direction where he’s stopped typing just as fast as he'd started and is now pressing two fingers harshly into his temple.

“Leif,” Joan’s head pokes out of her office doorway. “I love to see how hard at work you are.” Jesus, he really can’t win today, huh? “Come here.” 

He immediately goes into Joan’s office (no sense fighting it and getting into any more trouble today), nervous energy filling the room, almost choking him out. 

“Does everyone know they’re not leaving tonight until the glitch is fixed?”

“Yeah, Tobin and Max can stay, and of course, the rest of the bros.” 

“And Zoey?”

 _Deep breath. In and out._ “She has a date.” 

“Well, I don’t know why I expected that you could ask her to stay if you’re not gonna stay.” 

“Joan, really, _any other day_ ,” The frustration is bleeding through his voice, pleading for some kind of understanding.

“It’s really easy right now to question your loyalty to SPRQpoint and how much you value your job here.”

A scoff turns into an incredulous laugh. “Joan, you know I couldn’t be working harder right now if I had _your job_.” He knows immediately that that was the wrong thing to say, the frustration on her face turning to genuine anger.

“ _My job_? So help me god, if I have to jump out of that window and come back to haunt you, you will never be in a universe _near_ a universe where you would even kind of be near the ability to have my job.”

“I didn’t mean -”

“Of course you didn’t mean -” Joan rolls her eyes in disbelief, voice mocking, setting off something in Leif’s stomach, an anger volcano that’s been bubbling beneath the surface all day, coming up in small bursts and now getting ready to explode at the dismissive wave of Joan's hand. “Get out. Get away from me.”

“Yeah, fine, I’ll get away from you. Permanently.” His voice is sharp, jaw tight, eyes focused, a break from the moping, anxious mess he’s been all day.

“Is that your resignation?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is.” 

“Accepted. Effective immediately. You’ll get your last paycheck direct deposit, as usual. Get out.”

He walks out of her office vacantly, the weight of what he’s just done settling down on him as he grabs his jacket and bike helmet from his desk, unable to even think of clearing off the rest of his desk right now (that’s a problem he can sort with Tobin later). 

“Woah, dude, are you leaving?” Max’s voice floats over to Leif’s desk, breaking him from the trance he’d seemed to be under. 

“Yeah, uh,” His voice cracks and he covers it with a cough, shrugging his backpack over his shoulders before moving slightly closer to Max and Zoey’s desks, as they both look up at him. “Good news for you guys, I guess, I just quit.” 

“I… I don’t know what to say, Leif.” Zoey at least looks a little apologetic, he’ll give her that.

“Well, don’t say you’re sorry, we both know it’s not true.”

“I never… wanted you to _quit_ or actually leave. I know we fought a lot, but I never wished you harm. You’ve gotta believe me.” 

“I do.” He doesn’t, but he doesn’t think it’s worth it to say. He really just wants to get out of there and not think about it. “Uh, I hope you guys have… good lives or whatever. I don’t know what the proper quitting sentiment is here, so I’m just gonna…” He points behind him, starting to walk towards the elevators, letting his sentence trail off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment to make me smile.... pwease.... (also come yell at me over on tumblr @ wirypsychiatrist)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we’re getting to the good stuff gamers,,,,

Tobin, Max, and the rest of the brogrammers stay for two and a half hours past when they would usually head home before Joan steps out of her office with a sigh.

“Everybody go home.”

“But the glitch isn’t -” Max starts, earning a hit on the shoulder from where Tobin is leaning over his desk, where they had previously been trying to work together to get out of there faster. 

“Did I say go home or did I say keep worrying about the glitch? Home, everybody, now.” She punctuates the point with her hands, shooing them away. 

“What’s with the sudden mercy from her?” Max is incredulous as they pack up to leave and Tobin responds with a simple shrug. 

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the ass, I’m going home, baby.”

“That’s not the -” Max gives up on correcting him halfway through the sentence as they step into the elevator; he’s pretty sure Tobin knows he’s wrong anyways. “Hey, is Leif okay? I know we’re not, like, friends or anything, but today was… _rough_.” 

Tobin’s eyes are suspicious as he asks; he’s right, they’re not friends, and even if they were, Tobin doesn’t have an answer for him.

“I don’t know, dude. Do you think you’d be okay if you got into two distinct, separate, pretty embarrassing fights with _both of your bosses_ and then, pretty impulsively, quit?”

“I guess not.” Tobin can tell that Max’s sympathy is genuine, at least, as they get off the elevator and part ways outside of the SPRQpoint doors. 

“Hey, dude,” Tobin jumps about a foot out of his skin when a hand reaches out of the alley and grabs his shoulder, his gut response channelling into a swift punch to the stranger’s face. Or… not so much a stranger, as he hears a pained ‘ _dude’_ in the voice of his best friend, who now has a hand pressed firmly to where Tobin’s fist collided.

“Holy shit, Leif, I’m sorry.” He immediately steps into the alley, holding his friend’s shoulder. “But in my defense, bruh, maybe next time don’t hide in the shadows of an alley. You can, like, text me. Or just come in the doors, dude, you worked there less than eight hours ago.” 

“I... didn’t want Joan to see me, I’m -” Leif’s small lament is cut short by Tobin’s hand leaving his shoulder to form into an accusatory point. 

“Wait,” He draws it out, a classic Tobin interrogation tactic. “Why aren’t you at the park with your _dear friend_? Did it go bad? Do we need to get three pints of ice cream?”

“Uh, that’s why I’m here. I need you to do me probably the biggest favor ever.”

“And that would be?”

“Come with me to the park. She’s gonna be there all alone with a copy of _Mindhunter_ , using a rose as a bookmark. I’m supposed to meet her there with a rose pinned to my shirt.”

“That sounds really romantic, dude.” Tobin’s smile is genuine, as he thumps his hand softly against his friend’s chest in support. “Except for one tiny, little thing.”

“What?” Leif’s eyes are so expectant and worried that Tobin almost feels bad.

“What am I doing there?”

He makes an ‘oh, right’ face, scrambling to pull a letter out of his back pocket; a plain white envelope with script writing that says “Dear Friend” on the front.

“I need you to give her this. It - It says that I was called away for something urgent last minute and I can’t make it, but I’ll email her and get in touch as soon as I possibly can.”

“Are you kidding? You don’t think she’s gonna be disappointed?”

“ _Dude_ , she’d be even more disappointed to see me how I am right now. Did you notice that I _quit my job_ today? I cried three times on the way home because I saw animals that looked content. I can’t… I can’t meet her tonight, Tobin, not like this. Please?” 

Tobin is quiet for a second, still hesitant, but the wetness around Leif’s eyes clenches around his heart and won’t quite let go.

“Alright, alright, I’ll bring her the letter.”

“Great, thank you. So much, I can’t - I can’t thank you enough, actually. But we’ve gotta go, for all I know, she’s already gotten tired of waiting and left.” 

The park isn’t far down the street; they make the walk in relative silence, the thoughts clouding Leif’s head far too loud for him to consider idle chatter at the moment. Tobin’s hand on his shoulder stops him when they reach the park; it’s fairly crowded, far more people there than he would’ve liked or expected on a December night, but, then again, it is unseasonably warm. With a cursory glance, he doesn’t see anyone reading, or holding a book with a rose, but there’s also a game of frisbee occupying the middle of the park and blocking his visibility of the other half of benches and picnic tables.

“Can I see the rose?”

“What?”

“The rose. That you’re supposed to pin to your shirt, can I see it?”

Leif’s unsure of Tobin’s intentions and a little suspicious, but he pulls it out of his pocket, anyways; it looks about how he feels. Smushed, wilting, and sad. He hands it to Tobin.

“This is just sad, bro.” He makes a sympathetic face at the poor rose, it didn’t ask to be squished in his pocket all day. His reflexes kick in and smack Tobin’s hand away when he goes to pin it to his shirt.

“ _Dude, no_.”

“C’mon, you’re at the park, you came here, just go the extra mile, go meet her.”

“Tobin, no.” His voice is somehow stern and pleading at the same time, eyes begging him to just please, _please_ let it go.

“At least take a look at her.” 

Leif shakes his head vigorously, panic rising in his chest, until an idea pops into his head.

“You take a look at her.”

Tobin gives him his best ‘you’ve seriously gotta be kidding me’ look, which Leif meets with his best ‘I will do literally anything for you, I will play Halo, which you know I hate, if you do this for me’ look, which is apparently successful as Tobin rolls his eyes and starts around the perimeter of the park, eyes peeled for the book and rose combo.

Leif stays put where he is, looking around at other things in the park, desperately trying to distract himself from where he is and why he’s here. He’s watching two squirrels square up with each other when Tobin comes back and _oh,_ that is not a good look on his face.

“Oh, god, she’s horrible. She has a gun and it was all a ploy to murder my sweet, youthful body. Or she’s _old_ , she’s a grandma, who -”

“What? Dude, no.” Tobin’s clearly frustrated by Leif’s assumptions, but the look on his face has not left.

“Well, there’s gotta be something wrong with her or you wouldn’t look like that.”

“Uh, no. She’s actually - She’s quite attractive.”

“She is?” Leif lets a small, wistful smile creep out; it’s kind of embarrassing how smitten he is without ever even having met the girl. “Who does she look like?”

“Well, uh -” That question sends the nervous energy on Tobin’s face skyrocketing, eyes glancing back in the direction he had come from.

“Someone in the movies? TV?”

“Not quite. If I _absolutely had to_ say she looks like anyone, it would be, uh, someone from the office.”

“From our office? That would only be Joan and Zoey.”

“Y’know, now that you mention it," Tobin's talking with his hands, one of his surefire signs of being nervous. "She does look quite a bit like Zoey.” Tobin grimaces, looking again towards where he had come from a minute ago, and Leif really wants to grab his head and keep it centered. “She looks… _very much_ like Zoey.”

“Zoey Clarke?” He shakes his head, staring at the grass in front of Tobin’s feet. “You said she was attractive.”

“Well, _I_ think she’s attractive, but, uh, if you don’t like Zoey, you’re… _definitely_ not gonna like this chick.” 

A beat of silence as Leif considers, solemn eyes finally meeting Tobin’s again. “She’s that much like Zoey?”

“I think you might wanna get a look yourself.” 

After a second of consideration, Leif starts around the perimeter himself awkwardly waving at someone walking their dog when the dog comes up to try and play. When he rounds to the other side of the frisbee game and sees a full head of red hair with a book on her lap, rose sticking out of that book and an open bottle of wine sitting next to her, something flips in his stomach. _This just straight up can’t be true_. 

Before he’s fully processed Zoey sitting on the bench, his legs are carrying him back across the field, past Tobin and away from the park. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s at the other edge of the park and Tobin has rounded around him, physically stopping him from moving.

“You’re just gonna leave her there?” Tobin is judging him mad hard right now, incredulity written all over his face. 

“What do you want me to do? Go over there and tell her _I’m_ the dumbass who’s been spilling out my heart to her for the past three months? The things I said, Tobin, she’s gonna make me the laughingstock of SPRQpoint, of San Francisco. I’m already unemployed, I need that, too?” 

“Dude, she wrote just as much as you did - embarrassing stuff, personal stuff!”

“No. No, it’s not Zoey, Zoey didn’t write any of that, she couldn’t have.”

“So, you think Zoey just likes to chill at parks for hours with wine, reading a very specific book about true crime, using a rose for a bookmark _in December_? You think that’s all just a coincidence?”

“I can’t -” He doesn’t wanna say it, doesn’t wanna acknowledge that it’s true, but his disbelief overpowers his pride. “I can’t be _falling in love_ with Zoey, dude.” 

“How do you know that? Have you tried?”

“No, but I know her! I know that I can’t be in love with her. This has gotta be some kind of mistake or - or some kind of karmic bullshit from the universe.” 

“So... go talk to her. Find out.” 

Tobin pushes him towards the other side of the park. When he turns around a second later to back out, Tobin is walking away and whistling innocently. _The jerk_. So, he takes a deep breath and walks toward the bench where Zoey is sitting. _Maybe this won’t be so bad._ He can explain calmly and if she rejects him outright… well, he’ll only kind-of be heartbroken, he guesses. 

He catches Zoey’s eye before he has a chance to say anything himself, a look of annoyance and disgust occupying her face as she registers it’s him walking towards her.

“Ugh,” The noise that comes out of her mouth matches the look on her face. 

“Zoey.”

“Leif, what are you doing here?” 

“I…” It’s on the tip of his tongue, really. _I… am your dear friend. I’ve been spilling out my hopes and dreams to you since August, it’s me. It’s me._ But none of that comes. “Am celebrating. How about you?”

“I’m waiting for someone.” Her voice is cold; he would feel guilty if that coldness wasn’t aimed at him and him only. “Someone that is clearly _not_ you.” 

Something about that stirs in his gut, every built up frustration bustling around and bumping against his insides, making his agitation push up. 

“Mind if I sit?” Too late, he’s already sitting.

“No, what part of ‘I’m waiting for someone’ isn’t clear, even to you?” 

“You won’t help me celebrate?”

“Celebrate _what_?” Her eyebrows are drawn together, clearly frustrated, even if a little genuine curiosity is poking through.

“ _I_ _’m free_. Tomorrow is Wednesday and I can turn _every single alarm_ off on my phone. I can go for a jog at noon or sit birdwatching at two.”

“Leif, with all due respect, go away.”

“What? You won’t have one small drink with me? One last toast to SPRQpoint?” He’s smug now, a truly obnoxious smirk sitting on his face. 

“One _very quick, very small_ toast.” 

He smiles, picking up the glass that doesn’t have lipstick stains on it. He doesn’t blame her for opening the wine; if he’d been the one waiting for an hour, he’s sure he would’ve done the same. She pours them each a glass, heavy handed on both glasses, and he’s a little concerned about exactly _how much_ wine she’s already had. 

“To SPRQpoint.” She goes to drink the toast. “And all the people who work there.” She rolls her eyes at his continuation, going again to drink the toast and once again being interrupted. “And all the people who _used to_ work there.”

“And that about covers it.”

She finally sips the wine, as does he. After his sip, he dumps back the rest of his glass, feeling the wine settle into his empty stomach.

“Are you spying on me?”

“Hm?” He sets the glass down on the bench next to him, wiping the wine that’s stuck to his lips.

“Did you come out here to see if I really had a date planned and I didn’t just wanna avoid staying late?”

“Uh, who would I be spying _for_? Joan? If you’ll recall, I quit, pretty dishonorably.” He rests his arm on the back of the bench, letting his hand rest on the back of his head. “You said you’re meeting someone, is it someone you’ve known for a while?”

“ _Leif._ ” 

“It just -” He moves his hand to run through his hair, the smug smile returning at the opportunity to have the upper hand. “It seems wrong. To keep a lady waiting so long for a date. _All alone_.” 

“How many times do I have to ask you to go away?”

“I mean, even if he is an old friend.” He pauses, asking himself if he really wants to do this. He could drop this at any moment. He could just leave and stop writing; she would never have to know. Or he could have a little fun. “ _A dear friend_.”

“Leif, I really don’t wanna talk about this with you.”

He’s still smiling, despite the discomfort and tension that had come to join them on the bench accompanied by an awkward silence, the sound of frisbee and street performers filling the air. 

“Do you recognize that song?” He’s referring to the guy playing the guitar against a tree a couple feet away. “I think they played it at, like, _every_ high school dance.”

“Yeah, they definitely did.” She laughs a little bit, for the first time since he approached, making him feel a little bit better about all of this. She looks startled when he lets out a jarring laugh after a moment of peace; it’s an obnoxious one, if you ask her. 

“What?”

“Well, we’ve just figured out something we have in common. We..” He laughs again. "We both, at one point, attended high school.” 

“Yes.” She’s turned back to being cold now, eyes staring ahead at the frisbee game. “And _I_ grew up.”

He tries not to actually be hurt by that, he knows it’s just a dumb comment and she’s already upset with him (and, in her defense, he’s fully aware that he is being _quite_ annoying). Instead, he turns his attention to the book, snatching it off her lap, which is met with more frustration from her.

“Mindhunter. Odd choice. Good book, though, props.” 

“Give that back.” She rolls her eyes as he hands it back, but not before snatching the rose out of the book. “Leif, give _t_ _hat_ back, too.”

“A rose? It’s December. Unless,” He gives a fake gasp, over exaggerated and taunting. “ _Zoey_. Have you not even met this man? Seen this man?”

“That’s ridiculous, of course I’ve met him.”

“Oh, of course.” Leif nods his head in faux-understanding. “But y’know… Some girls and some boys do make arrangements like that. Anonymously. In fact, I had a friend a couple years ago, she signed up for this, uh… this…” He pretends to rack his brain, snapping his fingers when he ‘gets it’. “It was like a lonely hearts club, that’s it. And they made the arrangement, set the date, set the dinner. She was supposed to have a book and a rose, just like this.” Zoey is watching him carefully, unwillfully invested in every word coming out of his mouth as he gestures with the rose. “And he was supposed to have a rose just like it pinned it to his shirt. And yeah, I guess they _did_ recognize each other. The next day they found her left leg floating in the Pacific.”

Zoey rolls her eyes for what feels like the millionth time, realizing that he’s just being a jerk. 

“They never did find the rest of her.” 

“Leif, I’ve had quite a bit of wine on an empty stomach. If you don’t leave, I’m gonna scream and it’s gonna be loud.”

“I just wanna -”

“Haven’t you had enough of screwing with me? Don’t you get tired of it?” She just looks exhausted now, taking another sip of wine. “I really don’t understand you.”

“How could you understand me? You’ve never really looked at me, never really tried to get to know me, listened to what I have to say.” 

“That’s not true.” She looks at him again, an overwhelming solemness overtaking the bench. “I’m looking at you right now. And do you wanna know what I see? A smug, petty, pompous child. Amazingly sure of himself and full of ambition. But I see him ten years from now, still schmoozing up to the wrong people to try and work his way up the ladder. And twenty years from now doing the same. And _thirty years from now_ , doing exactly the same. Because that’s all he is, just an overly ambitious, not-very-handsome, not-very-nice man with no heart and the personality of a _python_.”

_Wow_. Any intentions he might have held a minute ago to fess up to being her ‘ _dear friend’_ fade with every punctuated word. It’s clear that even if she knew, she would never feel the same. He stands up quickly, taking several steps forward, trying to blink the tears out of his eyes before he makes an even bigger fool of himself and breaks down before he can get away. 

“Leif, wait,” Zoey’s standing up now, too, a couple steps behind him. He takes the rose out of his pocket, staring at it as her words ring back clearly in his head. “I didn’t mean _all_ of that.”

With that, he drops the rose, crushing it beneath his foot as he walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leaving a comment gives me so much validation,,,,, so much validation,,,,,,,


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote half of this at 3am last night and the other half in the morning so if there is a shift in quality,,,, That Is Why 
> 
> we are Nearing The End here (should be one more chapter, unless i cant make myself shut up and have to split it into two), im terrible at responding to comments but if you've left a comment i genuinely love you a lot and i read and re-read them and smile and it really does validate me to keep writing

Leif wakes up the next morning feeling _absolutely_ miserable. On top of the wine he’d had on an empty stomach, he’d indulged in several more drinks ( _not_ because he’s sad, okay? He doesn’t care about the Zoey thing _or_ the fact that she’ll never, not in a million years, accept that he’s her _dear friend_ , even if he’d gotten up the guts to tell her) when he got home; for the moment, at least, it had made him feel better. But now, as his eyes open to sunlight streaming in through the windows (usually a sight that would remind him ‘ _oh, crap’_ he has to get ready for work, but alas, he remembers that is not an issue today), everything feels like crap and he’s forced to acknowledge the pit in his stomach. 

He’s unemployed. He’s genuinely, really unemployed, and he doesn’t even get severance because he’d been the idiot that _quit_. _Shit_. 

Usually, he would be in the shower right now, with button-up, sweater, and chino’s carefully laid out on his bed waiting for him. He supposes he really should try to keep as much of a normal schedule as he can, so as to not form any bad habits or be thrown for an even bigger loop when he’s employed again (which he hopes is sooner rather than later; paying rent is kind of a big, important part of remaining alive and well). Regardless of what he _really should_ do, he indulges himself with a ‘fuck it’ in the back of his head, letting himself drift back to sleep as he hears Tobin fussing around in the living room and kitchen before work. He’s already asleep again when Tobin pokes his head in to make sure he’s okay before leaving for the day (for the first time in quite a long time, save for a few sick days and vacation days, Tobin leaves for work without Leif).

He wakes up soon after to the sound of his phone’s ringer (and god, why in the world had he taken that off silent?), grabbing it blindly and answering it.

“Leif Donnelly.”

“Leif, great, you’re awake.”

There are many people that Leif’s sleep-addled mind thought might be calling him when he blatantly ignored the caller ID, but this was decidedly not one of them.

“Joan?”

“Yeah, listen, can you meet me at the coffee shop down the street from SPRQpoint? We need to have a conversation.”

 _A conversation_? What the hell? Could she be more fucking cryptic? The least she could do is _name the damn coffee shop_. But he’s slightly more scared of Joan than he is suspicious of her and it’s not like she can fire him from a job he’s already quit so he sleepily agrees to meet her, throwing the closest sweater-shirt combo he can find on and heading out.

When he walks into the shop, Joan is already sitting at one of the tables, so he just orders a black coffee and sits down across from her with an awkward smile. 

“Uh, hi?” He’s sure the confusion he feels registers in his voice.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” He’s still confused, but hey, if Joan’s found some form of mercy deep down in her heart, he’s not gonna complain. 

“You might be the only person who’s committed corporate espionage without even knowing it.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“Yeah, you’ve been leaking code to a start-up down the street, didn’t you hear?”

“But it’s not true - I didn’t -” His voice raises in pitch, affronted and shocked that she thinks he did that (not that he _wouldn’t_ , but that’s not the issue in discussion).

“I _know_ you didn’t.” A pause. “Now. I know you didn’t _now_.” Joan takes a sip of her own coffee, shaking her head. “You were right. Yesterday, when you said you’d been 'the butt of my anger, more than anyone else'." She's mocking him a lot right now for someone who's supposed to be apologizing, but it's better than nothing. "I got an anonymous tip a while ago, must’ve been about August, that someone had been leaking code down the street. I just… assumed it was you. You’re ambitious, self-centered, two-faced, kind-of a dick, it made sense.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“Anyways, I hired a guy to look into it, he found out that someone _was_ sending code down the street, but it wasn’t you, which shocked me, considering I’d let you quit like that, kind of embarrassing for both of us there. And after all of that, it was fucking Glenn. Incompetent Glenn, who would’ve guessed? So, I guess what I’m saying is I’m sorry.” He willfully ignores the face she makes when she says the word ‘sorry’, like it’s foreign to her. “And, if you’d like it, your position at SPRQpoint is still yours.”

“I - Yeah. Yes, of course I want my job back.” 

“Great. While I’ve got you here, I have a kind-of family emergency I need to fly out and take care of. Of course, Zoey’s next in line of ‘being in charge’ while I’m out, but unfortunately, she’s sick today, so if you’re gladly taking your job back, can you keep things in order today, until Zoey’s feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.” He can’t help the wide smile that crosses his face at that. Not only did he just get his job back with little to no effort on his part, as well as get closure on the fact that _yes, all of those attacks from Joan really were targeted_ , but she’s trusting him enough to give him the responsibility of ‘keeping things running’. That’s certainly enough to make him pretty damn giddy. “I won’t let you down.” 

* * *

Zoey wakes up feeling equally as miserable, if not more so. It turns out that over half a bottle of wine on an empty stomach is not a good idea. Who knew? On top of that, her _dear friend_ never showed up (she waited far longer than she’d ever admit, lonely and wine-drunk and constantly refreshing her email for _something_ , anything explaining where he was), she seemed to have genuinely insulted Leif (which she is far, far less worried about than the former point), and she woke up with a fever, sore throat, and stuffy nose, making her miss a day of work (which, she supposes, at least means she doesn’t have to face Leif, even if she doesn’t actually feel all that bad about the things she said). She thinks there’s literally nothing that could make this day worse.

She manages to make herself breakfast (if you count ‘making frozen waffles’ as making breakfast, anyways), but beyond that, she falls back asleep on the couch and lets herself wallow. She only has time for so much wallowing, though, before she wakes up to a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” When no one answers, she sighs and stands up, walking over to the door and opening it. “Oh, Leif.” The door is closed just as soon as she’s opened it. He knocks again and she sighs, grabbing the throw blanket she keeps on the back of the couch and wrapping it over her embarrassingly juvenile Wonder Woman pajama pants and t-shirt, before opening the door again.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighborhood and -”

“What? Did you remember something you wanted to say last night? Get it over with, then,” She gestures for him to come in, shutting the door behind him. “I’m feeling pretty shitty today, so say it and go.”

“Well, I know you’re sick, that’s actually why I’m -”

“How?” He tries not to take it personally that she’s not let him get a full sentence out since opening the door. 

“This might be, uh, _surprising_ , but… I am back at SPRQpoint.”

“Back at SPRQpoint? Already?”

“Yeah, Joan called me this morning and we talked and -”

“And now you’re here to see if I’m really sick, so you can tell everybody at work and Joan that I just don’t care about my job and get _me_ demoted or fired.”

“No, I -” Another interruption causes Leif to close his eyes, pushing down his frustration.

“You don’t have to do that, no, I’ll go in. Yeah, I’m stronger than a stupid cold, and you don’t get to make me look like I don’t care, I am _taking_ the upper hand from you. I have the high ground, Leif.”

“Zoey -”

She throws the blanket back on the couch, storming in her room and emerging in an outfit that barely resembles passable, worse even than some of the ones Leif had worn during his emo phase. 

“Zoey, you’re sick, you should lie down.” 

“No.” She’s moving around the room faster than he thinks she should be, given the fact that she keeps sniffling and he can see the bags under her eyes, even from this distance. “Do you see my other shoe? It’s in here somewhere, I just need to find it and put it on, and then I’m going to work.”

“You’re hysterical, you -” He stops her as she tries to rush past him, grabbing her shoulder and pressing a hand to her forehead. “You have a hell of a fever, Jesus, _lay down_.” 

“What? And give you all the ammo you need to destroy my career and finally get everything you want? I don’t think so, I just need my shoe. And then I am _going_.”

“ _Zoey -_ ” He’s shocked when she steps up onto her coffee table, seeming to be trying to get high ground to _see better_? He’s not entirely sure what her intentions actually are, but she’s gonna hurt herself if she’s not careful. After one step too close to the edge of the table, he swoops forward, arms going around her torso and picking her up as she swats his back. 

“Put me _down_ , Leif, what the fuck?”

“Then _lay down_.” He drops her on the couch, stepping back and rubbing at his forehead, letting the breath fall out of his lungs. After his moment of collecting himself, he notices that she’s started crying where he dropped her on the couch and, uh, _holy shit_ , what is he supposed to do with that?

“I, uh, I brought you something.”

“Huh?” Zoey rubs at her eyes, looking up at Leif, pretending like she didn’t just start sobbing out of nowhere. He responds by grabbing the small paper bag he had dropped on the coffee table when he’d made the impulsive decision to pick her up.

“Ice cream. Uh, the fancy stuff, it’s from the farmer’s market. I always have it when I’m sick, it’s the best.”

“Oh.” She takes it from him hesitantly, opening the small container inside the bag and using the provided wooden spoon to try it. “That’s delightful.” She takes another bite before the tears start to fall again, against all of her wishes.

“Can I, uh, can I ask why you’re crying? Would that make this weirder?” 

“Don’t act like you care.” She wipes away the tears again, straightening her back and taking a deep breath. She might not have much left, but if she can, she wants to keep at least a little of her dignity. “You can deny it all you want, I know you resent me and, trust me, the feeling is mutual.” 

“Zoey, I -” He struggles to come up with the words he wants to say (a struggle he seems to only have with Zoey in person, he now notes, remembering how easy it was to talk to her through the guise of a screen and a pen name). He carefully sits down on the coffee table in front of her, pushing away what looks like last night’s late-night comfort Chinese takeaway containers. “I said a lot of things last night. A lot of really mean, petty things and I - I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for some of them. I must’ve been drunk, I don’t know, I just - I’m sorry.”

“That’s the thing. You were right.” He raises his eyebrows in response to her sudden honesty and earnestness. “The guy I was waiting for, I’d never met him. We’d just been exchanging emails. Good emails, _honest_ emails.” And there’s that pang of guilt again. “And he never showed up.” 

She tries to hide the choked sob that comes out in a fake cough, but, as oblivious as he can be, Leif isn’t an idiot. 

“I feel… very responsible for that. Sorry.” And oh, Zoey, you don’t even know just _how_ responsible he feels.

“No, it’s not just you.” She sniffles again, though she seems to have stopped actively crying now. “Don’t take that to mean I like you or that I didn’t wanna punch you straight in the face last night. But there could’ve been so many reasons he didn’t show up. I don’t know. It just sucks.” She hates that she’s talking about this with _Leif_ of all people, but he’s here and he’s listening and she’s just gonna have to assume that _that’s_ why she’s so willing to spill and not at all because she doesn’t seem to mind talking to him. “But I do know if he _cared_ , like, _at all_ , he would’ve emailed or written or… _anything_ to let me know why.” 

He can't take it when she sobs again; he can see how hard she's trying to keep herself together and the pressure in his chest feels like it's squeezing the life out of him; he's so focused on how bad he feels he doesn't even think anout what's coming out of his mouth.

“Oh, he will.”

“I really don’t think -” This time it’s him that cuts her off, nervous energy now funneling off him in waves.

“No, no. I’m sure of it, I’m not just saying that.” He’s stood up in a hurry now, facing away from her couch and scrunching his face up, cursing himself for not being able to just _shut up, dude._

“How are you _sure of it_?” 

“I, uh…” _Fuck. Shit. Uh, yeah, how??_ “I… met him.” _Dude, what?_

“What?”

“Yeah, yes - _dear friend_ , last night.” She seems to have perked up now, the hope of at least an explanation dragging her on and there’s that guilt twisting around in his gut again. 

“When? _How_?”

“Well, uh, let’s see, huh,” Filler words give him time to think, give his brain time to catch up to his ever lumbering mouth as he turns back around to face her. “Uh… Um - Oh! When I left the park - It was when I left the park, I was walking home and I really felt like someone was following me, so I turned around, and there he was and he came up to me and started asking questions about us, about you and me!” 

He would almost be proud of himself for the bullshit web of lies he’s started spewing if it didn’t make him feel so bad, looking at the hope that’s coming back into Zoey’s eyes now.

“What kind of questions?” _Shit_. Details?

“Just, uh… exactly what you’d expect. Those kinds of questions.”

“No, Leif, you’ve gotta tell me exactly what he said. _Please_.” His stomach is twisting again, mouth dry. Why hadn’t he just stopped talking? It’s that easy, Leif. Just shut your mouth. 

“Well, see, my memory’s not… not the greatest, I don’t know if I -” She’s standing now, and she interrupts him by grabbing his sweater in two fistfulls and pulling him forward.

“You can try.” He doesn’t know if he’s scared of or extremely attracted to the sudden intensity (he’s a liar, either way, because it’s definitely both), but regardless, his eyes are wide and his response is to immediately start stammering in an attempt to say _something_.

“Well, uh, hm.” It’s amazing how he can go from literally being unable to shut up to not remembering a single word of the English dictionary (with which he is _very_ familiar). “I think - I believe the first thing he said was ‘Did you just leave Strawberry Hill park?’ and, uh, do you wanna know what I said, too?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I said ‘yes’. Um, uh - And then he said… Oh, he said ‘tell me, that girl you were with, are you two… together?’ and I jumped, I said ‘no, no, no, not at all, never, in fact’,” He snaps now, his mouth moving faster than his brain can actually keep up with (something that happens far, far too often). “I said, ‘In fact, she has a date _tonight_.’ And he looked sad, really sad, and he said ‘well, I know she has a date, it was with me’. And then he said, oh, I’m remembering it now, he said ‘but I have to take the next plane out of town on urgent business’.”

“ _Urgent business_.”

“Urgent business! Yeah, yeah.” 

“That sounds important. Do you think he’s successful? A store owner, a manager?”

_Well. Huh. Definitely not._

“Y’know, that is - it’s hard to say. He certainly looked, uh… well-worn. Stressed. Of course…” He can feel himself about to say something dumb and mean and definitely uncalled for, but he can’t help it, the words are coming out of his mouth before he’s actually had time to think them over. “Of course that’s not really unusual in a man his age.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, striding over to a bookshelf that sits not too far from the couch, avoiding looking at her as she processes what he’d said. “You have some really good books here. _Oh_ , Helter Skelter, this has been on my list for ages, do you think I could borrow it sometime?”

“What?”

“The book.” He finally looks back over to see her staring into space, mouth slightly agape. “Could I borrow it sometime? I swear I’d bring it back.”

“What do you mean… a man his age?” 

“Huh?”

“You said ‘not really unusual in a man his age’, how… old is he?” She’s worried now, it’s clear, and he almost feels bad again, until his mind recalls how absolutely disgusted she had looked to see him the night before in the park. 

“Well, uh…” Here he goes again. “You’ve gotta understand, it was really dark, it was hard to see. And he’d had such a taxing day, emotionally, anyways. So, uh, I’d say… fif… hm.... no, six… nah,” She looks mortified now, eyes wide, but he’s not _done_. “Sev… Hm. It’s hard to say. Maybe it would be easier if he’d had some hair.”

“ _Oh._ ” She’s staring at the coffee table now, and, miraculously, he thinks, this is a staring contest the inanimate object might actually lose. He can’t take the silence, even if it’s one that he directly caused.

“Have you read Death in the Air?”

“Hm?”

“By Kate Dawson. I got it for myself when it came out, I could lend it to you.”

“Is he completely bald?” She doesn’t seem to have even processed his idle book chatter, but her eyes have broken from the coffee table and come back to meet his own, wide and uncertain now, in direct contrast to Leif, whose confidence has grown now that he has a little bit of power in the conversation, and, more importantly, now that he has a point to make.

“Does that matter?” The words sink in, filling the air between them, the unspoken sentiment there. ‘ _Does it matter what he looks like? Does that change how you feel about him and how well you’ve communicated?’_ “You said you think you’re in love with him.”

“I am.” A pause as she thinks. “ _I am._ I just… I thought… I had hoped… I don’t know.” 

That settles it for him, at least. As much as he had hoped, somewhere in the back of his mind, where the last tiny shred of optimism had laid, that she might someday be able to accept that it was him, this just proves that that could never happen. No matter what he wrote, how much he came out of his shell, or tried to be a better person, she would only ever look at him and see “Leif Donnelly: resident jackass”. And maybe he’s earned that title, but it still hurts, nonetheless.

“God, I’m the biggest hypocrite ever.” He’s yanked out of his own spiraling thoughts by her exclamation into her hands, which are now fully cupping her face. She looks up and shakes her head. “As if what he looks like _matters_ , after everything we talked about in those emails. Just think about every work of art, every book, painting, _line of code_ , genius invention that was written or made by bald, ugly, lousy men. That doesn’t matter. They had what it took _inside_ them. In their brains, their hearts, their… blood? Old, unattractive, balding men, with indigestion and terrible tempers. They’re still… their ideas still matter.”

He can’t help but smile now, a small flutter going through his stomach and up into his heart, sticking in his throat as he tries to speak. “That, uh - you put that really well, Zoey.” 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but _thank you,_ Leif.” She stands up as the words leave her mouth, drawing him into a hug that freezes him to the core and leaves a red tint to his cheeks. Under normal circumstances, _anybody_ (save for Tobin) coming that close into his personal space without warning would be shoved away, but when Zoey’s arms wrap quickly around him in gratitude, he just feels light-headed and tingly. He decides then and there that Zoey touching him, hugging him, is something he’d let happen forever if it felt like this every time. 

She’s pulled away all too fast, running over to the side of the room where she pulls her laptop out of a shoulder bag. “I’ll email him now, he might just be scared that I was disappointed.” She’s already opening her laptop and logging in. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t mention you, I think that’d be embarrassing.”

It takes every last ounce of willpower in his body not to let out a laugh. “Well, I- I appreciate that.” He stands awkwardly for another second, looming in her living room, unsure of what to say or if there _is_ anything left to say - at least, right now. “I should, uh, get back to the office.”

“I’ll head in as soon as I’ve written back, Max said they still haven’t found the source of the bug.”

“Oh, no, no, you shouldn’t worry about it. Take the rest of your sick day. Get some rest, read a book.” He chuckles, but it’s forced; despite the good note they’re now on, the tension still rests uneasily in his stomach. “Have you, uh, finished Mindhunter, yet?”

“Oh, yeah, a while ago.” She nods and he notices the ghost of a smile, a small camaraderie building between the two.

“Yeah, so did I, I just - I can’t believe how much I still think about it. Like, when I’m walking down the street and I hear a weird sound from an alley, my brain’s immediately like ‘oh, _anyone can be a victim_ ’, you’re about to hardcore die.” 

“That’s… so weird, y’know, _dear friend_ , he -” She shakes her head, almost in disbelief. “I wish I could show it to you.” 

God, Leif, you really just can’t shut up, huh?

“You mean _dear friend’_ s had that exact same experience. Huh.”

“Yeah. _Strange._ ” 

“Mm,” The guilt’s returned now, twisting in his gut as he watches her start to type up an email _to him_. “Well, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He starts to open the door and step out, when a soft ‘wait’ catches his attention.

“Can I be really honest?”

“By all means.”

“I don’t resent you, Leif. At all. I might even go so far as to say I like you. Really.”

He doesn’t really know what to do with that. _She likes me_. Not ‘dear friend’, not Sparrow, she’s just said _she likes Leif._

“Thank you, Zoey. For what it’s worth, I was never lying when I said I didn’t resent you.” 

He steps out, closing the door behind him and letting the absolute biggest, dumbest smile take over his face. The hope that had been squashed so many times over the past day and a half is now pushing out of his heart, up through his throat, taking form in a decidedly giddy _giggle_ as he departs from her apartment and makes his way home. He’s not sure he stops smiling once as he walks, whether it be at the dogs he passes, the squirrels jumping out of trees, or the strangers he passes. He doesn’t really know if he _can_ stop smiling right now.

Zoey is left on her living room couch to try and compose an email and failing, her thoughts wandering after every beginning she attempts.

_Dear friend,_

_I am so sorry about last night. I don’t think either of us could’ve predicted it would go the way it did, but_ , 

He had brought her ice cream. Homemade, farmer’s market, _likely expensive_ , ice cream just because he knew she was sick and he felt bad. That was possibly the least _Leif-like_ thing he could possibly do. And then he had listened to her, consoled her, tried to help her, albeit not very well, and ultimately helped her sort out her feelings for her _dear friend_ in the process. Could it be that she judged him too harshly? That she saw his surface traits and judged him on nothing more than that? 

For the first time in the five years she’s known Leif Donnelly, she thinks maybe she might have been wrong about him.

Where was she? _The email_.

_Dear friend,_

_I am so sorry about last night. I don’t think either of us could’ve predicted it would go the way it did, but I think we’ll be able to move past it. I waited for so long, never thinking that ~~you were bald,~~_

Oh, god, no.

_That you were… near. I sat waiting, never guessing that ~~you were old,~~_

_No_. She closes the laptop, setting it swiftly to the side. But in ceasing to write the email, her mind wanders again when she spots the ice cream still sitting in front of her on the coffee table. _Maybe she really had misjudged him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep leaving them comments..... i need my serotonin for the week


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a formal apology for both how long this last chapter took and also the fact that i dont ever explain what "the app" is or what it's supposed to do i am simply a grandma i do not know anything about coding or tech so uuhh rip

Zoey expects total mayhem when she returns to work the next day (feeling much, much better, mind you); Joan being gone, Leif being in charge, and the entire team scrambling to make a barely-functioning app ready for release by Christmas doesn’t really fill her with the confidence she would like to have as she walks back into SPRQpoint.

What she expects to see and what she actually sees are two very different things. She expects chaos, maybe at least one coder crying in an isolation pod, the usual ‘crunch-time’ vibes. She _sees_ Leif leaning over Max’s computer, seeming to be actually working together to fix something (she sees them high five, completely inorganic and awkward on both sides, and she chooses to pretend she didn’t see it, _for their sake_ ), coupled with Tobin and Sam brainstorming on a white board and Glen… _Wait._

“Where’s Glen?” Her arrival finally garners Max and Leif’s attention, both heads looking up from the computer on Max’s desk, a smile accompanying Leif’s attention. A real, actual smile. Not the fake one she’s become accustomed to, the one that says ‘I have to be nice to you so I don’t get fired’, but a friendly smile that says ‘it’s good to see you back’. 

“Oh, uh, Joan… hardcored fired him, he’s been leaking stuff to other companies.” The smile shifts to a grimace as he recalls Glen’s demise. _“Funny story_ , Joan thought it was me. That’s why, uh… yeah.” 

Max and Zoey are both looking at him, clearly expecting him to say more, but their inquiring glances are just met with a shrug and a pitiable laugh.

“Guess it isn’t such a funny story. _Anyways,_ ” He straightens up from where he’s been leaning on Max’s desk. “Uh, Tobin found the bug yesterday, there was a huge part in Glen’s section of code that was just straight up messed up, surprising no one. And now we’re just, uh,” He gestures vaguely towards Max’s desk setup. “Working towards the end goal. You feeling any better?”

She can’t help the slight blush that colors her cheeks at what seems to be a one hundred percent genuine inquiry about how she’s doing. _What is up with him?_

“Yeah, I’m good as new. A-plus. The, uh, the ice cream worked wonders.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad.” 

Max has to force his jaw closed from where it had unwittingly dropped open as he watches Leif _blush_ and give an awkward thumbs up before turning around and heading back to his standing desk.

“Uh, what was that?” Max’s look is pointed as Zoey finally sits down, hanging her jacket on the back of her chair.

“What was what?”

“What was wh- _Zoey_. That was a civil conversation that you just had with _Leif_. I repeat - with _Leif_. And actually, not just civil, that was a _nice_ conversation. You just had a _nice conversation_ with _Leif_.”

“Okay, you can stop saying it, geez. Yes, we can be civil. Coming from the guy who was all buddy-buddy with him when I came in.”

“Uh, yeah, because we were _working_ together. That was like a real conversation about how you’re _doing_.”

“It was... a _sentence_. Maybe two, Max, and quite frankly, I think we should start working on this app instead of continuing to talk about it, because before you know it, Joan’s gonna be back from her emergency leave and I’d like to keep doing this living thing, I kinda like it.” 

Max puts his hands up in surrender, repositioning his chair in front of his monitor to get back to work as soon as Zoey shuts him down and Zoey’s left to get to work herself. Except that she can’t quite focus on the section of code she opens up because she’s forced to confront the fact that Max is kind of right. Leif’s dumb boy-ish smile on its own might not be enough to rouse suspicion, but coupled with bringing her ice cream and trying to help her, she’s not quite sure what to think about it.

Two weeks ago, the thought of even being something _close_ to friends with Leif seemed foreign to her. Hell, even two days ago, she had wanted to strangle him in the middle of a public park. So, why does she now find herself wanting to blow off the next part of the project, stand next to his stupid standing desk, and ask him if he’s listened to _Serial?_ _What gives?_

* * *

Leif’s day is pretty normal for the most part, except the part where Zoey comes in, he greets her, and then he obsesses over whether or not he sounded weird or suspicious for the rest of the day. It’s not like it’s _weird_ for him to be nice to her. Is it?

As he stares at the code in front of him, all hopes of focusing on finishing the pattern matching function today thrown aside, he’s forced to confront the fact that maybe past behavior doesn’t exactly back up the fact that it’s _not_ weird for him to be nice to her and care about how she’s doing. It would be weird for him to apologize now, right? After all these years of petty disagreements and getting in each other’s way? That would be clue number one hundred that something’s up and he is in no way anywhere _near_ ready for her to find out who the face behind the emails has been.

The thoughts don’t stop circling in his head (thoughts of Zoey’s smile when he’d asked how she was or her wistful smile when she talked of her _‘dear friend’_ , thoughts of how the hell he’s ever gonna tell her that he _is_ her _‘dear friend’_ , thoughts of treating her better as Leif rather than Sparrow) until he gets out of the elevator with Tobin at the end of the day and Tobin stops him as he starts to go off to grab his bike.

“Hey, dude, I figured I should, uh, let you know something.”

“Shoot.” His eyebrow raises as he waits for Tobin to speak, arms folded over his bike helmet, holding it close to his chest.

“I was the one who sent the anonymous letter.” _What?_ Tobin’s doing a lot of assuming that Leif has any clue what he’s talking about.

“Anonymous letter?”

“You don’t know?” Tobin’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape, his 'charismatic dumbass’ energy fading into a sudden nervousness as he rubs at the back of his neck. “That’s what sent Joan on the warpath. She got an anonymous letter about someone leaking code. That I sent.”

Leif’s eyes widen and he’s not sure exactly what emotions overtake him as he processes that _Tobin_ is the reason that he’d faced so much aggression from Joan and that he’d frustrated himself into quitting, in what might’ve been the most embarrassing way possible for him. If it was literally anybody but Tobin, he thinks he would actually let himself strangle him. 

“You wh-”

“Okay, okay, hold on. Before you murder me and spoil seventeen years of friendship, let me just say, I think I had valid reasons. I was thinkin’ Glen’s kind of an idiot, at least he’s gotta be if _I_ can figure out he’s leaking code as easily as I did, or maybe I’m just smarter than him, who cares? And if Joan fires _Glen_ , who deserves it, she’s _not_ gonna fire _me_ , who might also deserve it, but way less than Glen.” He stops talking, trying to gauge Leif’s reaction to what he’s saying, which, safe to say, is not a very calm reaction. “I didn’t think she’d accuse _you!_ And hey, everything turned out okay, didn’t it? You’re back here?” 

Leif’s face goes very quickly through each stage of grief while Tobin is making his case before resting finally on acceptance, shoulders sagging forward as he rubs a hand down his face. “Did you learn your lesson, at least?”

“Yeah,” Tobin reaches forward to jovially slap Leif’s arm and Leif breathes a sigh of relief. At least if something could be learned from this, he feels better. “Next time, name the names.”

_No_. “Tobin, that’s not-” Leif tries to call after him, but Tobin is already very quickly walking away towards the BART station. “The lesson is not to - y’know what, whatever.”

* * *

The days start to fly by the closer it gets to Christmas, every waking moment spent trying to make this app function, and quite a few of her sleeping moments, too. Joan still isn’t back from emergency leave, meaning Zoey is fully in charge of making the team run smoothly and quite frankly, she’s not really enjoying it. As much as she wants to move up and do more with her life, it is exhausting to constantly be second-guessed and disobeyed; she thinks of adopting a more Joan-like persona of taking no shit, considering that maybe if she could scare the brogrammers, they’d listen to her, but that just sounds even more exhausting. At least she has Max backing her up along the way.

What she doesn’t expect is that she also has Leif. He seems to realize that the brogrammers respect him more than her and he’s taken to whipping them into shape, in the absolute nicest and ‘bro-like’ way to whip someone into shape. When they roll their eyes at her suggestions, she notices Leif leaning on their desks and having casual conversations with them later, followed very closely by her ideas being implemented. When they make inappropriate jokes, whether she hears them or not, she starts to find sticky notes on her desk with apologies scrawled in messy handwriting, no doubt coerced out by a friend that they respect. 

It’s on a day that she’s more stressed than normal (and Joan’s promise of a return coming soon but still not having a definitive date is definitely not helping with said stress) that she slips into the meditation room in hopes of getting a few moments of peace, only to see Leif sitting on a section of floor that’s elevated, his feet planted firmly on the floor, meaning his knees are at his chest, due to how ridiculously long his legs are, and his arms are folded on top of them, head laying on top of both.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here, I can-” His head shoots up, clearly having not noticed her come in and _does he look sad?_ She decides he looks sad and she really doesn’t like the pit that creates in her stomach.

“No, you’re good, I just, uh, needed a minute.” His voice is softer than she’s used to hearing it, eyes moving up to meet hers before moving back to fix on the floor in front of him.

She’s not really sure what to do here. She could leave, go back to stress-city, and pretend that his sad eyes had never met hers. But he’s been so nice to her since the day after the park and she’s really not sure she _can_ pretend that she hadn’t seen him sulking, so she decides instead to sit down next to him, folding her own arms over her knees. Besides, she’s pretty sure she still owes him for the ice cream.

“Are you okay?” 

He takes a second before responding, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat.

“ _Yeah,_ ” And it doesn’t sound entirely untrue; it’s not accompanied by the obvious fake smile she’s noticed him don more than once, it just sounds noncommittal. He must notice the suspicion behind her eyes at his answer because he immediately shakes his head, eyes flitting towards her and then back to the floor. “ _Really_. It’s just… stress, the app, uh, personal… stuff, I won’t… bore you with the details. I just needed a second to _exist_ , y’know? Without expectations or responsibilities, just needed to let my brain… rest for a second.” A pregnant pause occupies the room. “Do you ever feel like that?”

And his eyes are meeting hers now, cheek resting against his palm where his head is turned towards her. And that is just _crazy_. That is just a crazy, random happenstance. She’s mentally going through every email she remembers reading (and re-reading… and okay, yes, _re-re-reading),_ mind searching for where she remembers reading that exact sentiment. Almost that exact wording, she’s sure of it. _But no._ There’s no way. Maybe Leif and her _dear friend_ are more alike than she cares to think. 

“Uh, anyways,” She feels bad now, as he plunders on, that she didn’t respond, she’d just stared at him curiously like an idiot. “I finished _Helter Skelter_ last night, thanks again for lending it to me. It was fascinating. Fucked up, no doubt, but fascinating.” 

“I’m glad you liked it.” She wants to say more, she has so many thoughts on the book, it’s one of her favorites, but she’s distracted fixating on his smile instead; the focus of it, the way it looks like even if the room were filled with other people, she would be the only thing he could see.

“You, uh,” He breaks the silence, also breaking the weird, intense eye contact they’d fallen into (which should’ve been weirder and Zoey is very, very concerned that it was _not weirder)._ “You take the bus home, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you mind if I walked with you to the bus stop?”

Of all the places this conversation could’ve been heading, she really didn’t expect that; her eyebrows shoot up on her forehead, surprise evident on her face, and it looks like he might be about to take it back, rewind, spout something about how they should just pretend he hadn’t asked, but she surprises herself when she realizes that she really doesn’t want him to.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

* * *

As the days pass, Max is the most confused of anyone regarding the sudden camaraderie around the office. All he knows is that one second, Leif and Tobin are pompous, immature jackasses who enable, if not _encourage,_ the brogrammers to actively not take Zoey seriously, and the next second Zoey is laughing with both of them and he overhears Leif casually talking to one of his coworkers about how it “seriously wasn’t cool to undermine Zoey like that”. It’s like he’s a completely different person. 

He sees Zoey and Leif talking and laughing by his desk when he’s leaning over one of the railings eating a late breakfast of cereal from the cereal bar and the confusion compounds when Tobin swaggers up next to him.

“They’re cute, right?”

Max has to force himself to swallow the cereal in his mouth, his eyebrows raised on impulse. 

“ _Cute?_ They hated each other two weeks ago. Like, I’ve heard Zoey plot his murder. I’ve _helped_ Zoey plot his murder.”

Tobin’s half smile somehow aggravates and amuses him as he shrugs his shoulders and starts to walk away.

“Still cute, though.”

And if that didn’t confuse him enough, later that same day Leif is leaning over Zoey’s desk to read over a section of code and he overhears possibly the most awkwardly cute conversation he’s ever heard and he swears it makes him nauseous.

“Are you in a hurry today?”

“No, not at all, why?”

“I was thinking, uh… maybe we could get a cup of coffee on the way to the bus stop?”

“I think I’d like that.”

“So would I.”

And Leif smiles before he walks away, big and nervous and _giddy,_ matching Zoey’s own blush and smile as she moves back to tapping away at her keyboard. _Is anyone gonna fill Max in on what the fuck is going on here?_

* * *

Finally, it’s Christmas Eve and the team is working diligently to wrap up every loose end they can to make it home in time to celebrate accordingly. Well, most of them - Tobin and Leif have their own family-free traditions and Max only celebrates Christmas socially, so really, it’s mostly Zoey eager to make it home. 

Leif takes the opportunity of Tobin asking him for help on a task to blurt out the source of the pressure pushing in on his chest.

“I think Zoey’s gonna ask me to celebrate Christmas with her family.” He says, displaying his fears and anxieties clear on his face as Tobin raises his eyebrows, clearly expecting something much more than that.

“Isn’t that good? You like her.” Tobin considers himself a pretty smart dude and he’s pretty sure that girl you like plus celebrating Christmas with her family seems like a pretty good deal. 

“Shhh,” Tobin is also pretty sure that the frustration and urge to be quiet from Leif is absolutely not valid, considering Zoey and Max are both in Joan’s temporarily empty office and most of the brogrammers have already gone home to celebrate. “I mean, first of all, I don’t wanna ditch you, we always do Christmas stuff together and, uh… and second, her _dear friend_ is supposed to be there, too.”

“Okay, isn’t _that_ good? You _are_ her _dear friend._ ”

Leif’s hand claps over Tobin’s mouth, eyes glancing around them apprehensively and Tobin really thinks Leif needs to take a chill pill or five as he pushes his arm away. 

“That’s the point.” Leif is looking at him like he’s supposed to _get that_. 

“Alright, dude, first off, nobody is even close to being able to hear us, I’m gonna need you to take it down about ten levels. Second, I don’t think I can help you here. There’s a good chance you just need to man up and tell her.”

“Well, that’s not-”

Tobin cuts him off with nonsense sounds, holding his hand up. “Just figure it out, dude. If I have to see you stare wistfully at her one more time, I’m breaking that window and jumping through it.”

Leif’s about to respond when they hear Zoey’s voice float from where she’s standing in the doorway to Joan’s office. “Joan!” And they look towards the elevators and there’s the lady herself, a smile on her face as she walks into the bullpen.

“How’s my favorite coding team?”

“We’re your only coding team.” Max follows Zoey out of Joan’s office, the five of them congregating in the bullpen as Joan pulls Zoey in for a hug before going for _very_ awkward high fives with the other three.

“Exactly. And more importantly, is the app done, can I see it?”

Leif is pulling out his phone before she’s finished speaking, opening up the running prototype of the app and handing it to her, ridiculously proud and nervous as she looks at the months of hard work from their team. The four of them all meet eyes at differing points, nervous energy coming in waves as Joan taps at the screen before she looks up and smiles.

“This is _good._ You guys did _good._ ”

And they collectively let out a breath and all move to gather their stuff, her approval being the figurative ‘go-ahead’ to head home. 

“Who doesn’t have plans tonight? Drinks are on me if you’re willing to spend Christmas Eve celebrating with your boss.” She claps Tobin and Max on both of their shoulders and Max thinks he should be offended that she assumed he would be one of the ones without any plans. “What do you guys say?”

Regardless, she’s _right_ and he agrees, because hey, free drinks. Tobin hesitates for a second, making eye contact with Leif over her shoulder, meeting his eyes in a gaze that very forcefully says _‘make your move’_ , before telling Joan that he’s game. So, they head out, leaving Zoey and Leif still gathering their stuff. Leif shuts the computer on his desk down as Zoey puts her coat on and attempts to gather up the presents she had brought into work, knowing she wouldn’t have a chance to go back to her apartment before heading to her parents. And speaking of heading to her parents.

“Hey, Leif,” She catches his attention as he’s slipping his coat on and he turns to face her as he picks up his backpack, sliding it onto one shoulder. “I don’t know if you have any Christmas plans, but, uh… me and my parents would be happy to have you.” 

“Oh, uh,” There’s an edge to his voice, a nervousness riding under the words as he says them. “Me and Tobin usually just stay up and open a present, but… he’s with Joan, so, uh, no, I don’t have plans, I guess. But I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be - you know who’s supposed to be there? _Dear friend._ ” 

“Hm.” And, oh, he _knows_ and his heart beating in his chest is reminding him exactly how much he knows. “Well, then, I _really_ wouldn’t wanna intrude, uh -”

“You really wouldn’t, Leif.” She says earnestly and he can’t take the guilt swirling around in his stomach, closing his eyes for a second. “You’d be helping me feel at ease, you’ve _met_ him, and really, you two have so much in common, you have no idea.”

“I…” He can’t say no, not when she’s looking at him like that, with her doe eyes and the slight pink tint to her cheeks as she smiles softly. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.”

“It’s not, trust me.”

He returns the soft smile, buttoning up his coat as they head towards the elevators.

“Oh, here, let me take some of those.”

He attempts to take some of the presents from her to help, but their hands brush as the tradeoff is happening and something short circuits in his brain, sending the one on top toppling to the ground, where it makes a loud ringing sound on impact.

“ _A bike bell?_ ” 

“It’s…” A blush colors her cheeks, drawing the presents remaining in her arms closer to her chest as he bends over to pick up the box he’d dropped. “It’s for _dear friend_. I know _you_ have a vendetta against them, but he talked a lot about his bike and, I don’t know, I thought it would be nice.”

“I don’t know, I’m not as averse to them as I was five years ago. And _god_ , I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“ _Remember that?_ It was my first day of work and one of my coworkers tried to kill me with his bike.”

“ _Tried to kill you?_ ” He let outs a breathy laugh, shaking his head softly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “I don’t think ‘hey, watch where you’re going’ is nearly enough of a warning to a bike that’s directly in front of you, but hey.”

“Oh, I did _not_ sound like that.”

“Yeah, you, uh…” He hesitates, unsure if he even wants to say the words on the tip of his tongue that would make him so vulnerable in the empty office. “You sounded irresistible.”

“Irresistible?”

“I remember thinking to myself, well…” And he can’t believe he’s actually saying this out loud, the thought he’s had pushed to the back of his mind for five years. “That’s the kind of girl I could almost fall in love with.” 

“But you were so _mean_.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The wistfulness in her voice sets off something in his stomach - he can’t tell if it’s frustration, desire, or sadness, but he doesn’t like the way it pools in his stomach and tries to push up into his chest and he immediately attempts to go on the defensive again, protecting the little bit of dignity he has left.

“How could I? It’s not like you were exactly the warmest to me, either. I knew how you felt.”

“No, you didn’t. You _really_ didn’t. I thought you were _cute_ \- I mean, more than cute, cute is _not_ the right word, I -” She cuts herself off, shaking her head and readjusting one of the presents under her arm. “What a shame. Who knows what could’ve been?”

His heart feels like it’s dropped to his toes as she walks past him towards the elevator. He should follow, but his feet are rooted to the spot where he’s standing as his brain moves at hyperspeed, telling him that _this is not a good idea_. And yet.

“I am so sorry about last night. I don’t think either of us could’ve predicted it would go the way it did, but I…” He trails off, carefully turning his head to see her staring at him, doe eyes wide and shiny as the gears turn in her head.

“ _Dear… friend?_ ”

“Are you disappointed?” He turns around fully now, the present for _dear friend_ , for _him_ , squeezed tightly in his hands.

“Disappointed?” Her face is unreadable as she walks toward him, carefully setting the presents she’s holding down on a nearby desk. “I’m _relieved_.”

“What?”

“Do you know how _guilty_ I felt that I had this dumb crush on you? How long have you known?” 

“ _Two weeks_. Since the park. I’ve wanted to tell you, this whole time, I wanted to yell it from every rooftop, tag it on the side of every building, but I just… I don’t know. I _couldn’t._ I guess I was scared. Anxious, more than anything, that you wouldn’t _want_ it to be me.”

“I wanted it to be you. More than anything. The more we talked, the more I got to know you. There were a couple times I thought… but I said _no_ , it can’t be, and - and I can’t believe this.”

The silence sits over them for a second, blue eyes meeting each other in understanding for the first time. The ghost of a smile comes across Leif’s lips as they communicate without words, before Zoey stands on the tips of her toes and brings their lips together. On instinct, he leans down to shorten the gap, bringing his hand to caress her cheek, palm resting across her jawbone and thumb grazing her cheekbone; his other hand drops the present he’d been holding, all thoughts of decorum and what’s acceptable leaving his head as their lips move gently against each other, soft and slow and so overdue. She pulls away hesitantly, as if it’s the last thing she wants to do and she relaxes her feet, bringing her back to her normal height; his hand still rests on her face and she’s let her hands rest on his chest.

“You’re telling me we could’ve been doing that for the last five years?”

With a hearty laugh and possibly the dumbest smile she’s ever seen, he moves his hand from her cheek and uses his arm instead to bring her in for a hug, letting her smile into his chest. There would be _plenty_ more of that later; for now, he just wants to be near her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments to keep giving me serotonin pls,,,, i would also like to say a massive thank you to anyone who's left a comment whether you commented on one chapter or all of them i read it and remember it and it really really means the world to me, i'm horrible at replying to comments but i do see them and i appreciate them so much!! they really do encourage me to keep writing, knowing that at least somebody is enjoying it so uh hearteyes @ everyone reading this i would never have finished this without you guys


End file.
